


Bad Blood

by glackedandmullered



Series: Trans!Michael AU [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: its not major but read with caution fellow friends, parental transphobia, parental violence, trans!michael, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glackedandmullered/pseuds/glackedandmullered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has something their ashamed of, Michael's just happened to come in parental form. Trans!Michael AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Blood

**Author's Note:**

> The reaction to my first trans au was phenomenal so thank you for that! This one is a bit...heavier, so I just hope you can forgive me.
> 
> And to anyone who has to deal with this, be it occasionally, daily, or ever at all, be safe my friends, there is always someone out there who cares about you <3

_\- I don't wanna hear about the bad blood anymore  
I don't wanna hear you talk about it anymore -_

\---

“So what do you think, Michael?” 

The voice came suddenly, close to him and Michael snapped his eyes open. He hadn’t even been listening to the conversation that was happening over his head, too absorbed in focusing on the warmth soaking into his skin. Austin was in the midst of a cold snap, freezing cold nights and brisk, icy days drawing all memories of the scorching heat of summer away on the wind. 

After a period of gym, that had included standing around on the baseball field while dumb wannabe jocks missed ball after ball, Michael had been more than happy to retire to the comfort of the empty classroom. Especially since the only thing not broken in that room was the heating. 

Michael had decided never to ask why these students seemed to be able to use this room to their leisure, even skipping class to spend time there. No teachers ever came by, and no other students ever tried to enter. Well, at least when he and the others were in there. Gavin once said ‘this room is like a void, like we don’t even exist in here,’ in that breezy British tone of his. At the time, Michael had laughed, told him not to be so stupid; but the more time he spent in the room, the more he started to understand what the boy meant. 

Ryan, being the only one in the room when he came darting in after class, hadn't said a word in question, choosing instead to carry on with whatever homework he was working on in a large black notebook. It wasn't until the others arrived that he was required to join in with the light conversation, and even then he was only half listening while he practically hugged the heater trying to soak the warmth right into his bones. 

According to the five pairs of eyes looking at him expectantly, their conversation required his input. 

“Huh?” he said dumbly, scooting away from the heater. 

Gavin scoffed, “See, told you he wasn’t listening.”

“Well excuse me for wanting to feel my hands again,” Michael countered sourly, holding up the stiff jointed appendages before holding them behind himself again, stretched out towards the heat.

“I’ll warm them up,” Ray said, shuffling over to him.

He didn’t even hesitate as he covered Michael’s small hands with his own, his palms warm and grip gentle. Michael found himself blushing, pink no doubt creeping up his neck and coloring his cheeks, but Ray didn’t even divert attention away from the others as he held onto Michael. 

Jack shook his head as he too crawled towards the pair, “your hands are too small, Ray, that won’t help.”

Before Michael could get more than a squeak out, Jack’s large hands were over Ray’s. Now, here they were, a blushing Michael in the middle with his hands held together in his lap while the oblivious boys acted like his own personal space heater. 

It took a moment for the boy to realise they were talking again, all his attention on the warm contact, but when he came back to himself Ryan was staring at him. 

“He’s still not listening to us.” Gavin pointed out lazily. 

Geoff, lying face down on the floor, mumbled something into the linoleum and Ryan pulled his head up by the scruffy hair there. 

"Wake up, Geoffers, you haven't even been to class today." 

Groaning, Geoff tugged his head away from Ryan's hand and ruffled his hair to set it back into its unruly style as he pulled himself up into his knees. “We’re gonna have the next Game Night at your place," he repeated, this time actually audible. 

Michael froze.

“We can’t.” _No way, not a chance in hell, not with her there._

Gavin pouted, “Aw, Michael why not?” _My Mom, she’ll wreck everything, she’ll ruin this and this needs to be safe._

 _Tell them your Xbox is broken,_ No that wouldn’t work, he’d been online just last night, _tell them your house is getting fumigated and it’s not safe for entry,_ now that was just stupid. 

“Why not Ryan’s?” he asked rather than answering Gavin’s question.

“My Grandma’s in town and she’s living in my room,” Ryan replied with a shrug, “ and the parent’s forbid gatherings in the lounge.” he said with a roll of his eyes. 

Michael was barely able to glance in Geoff’s direction before the older boy was speaking.

“Before you ask, game night is officially illegal at our house after Gav destroyed one of my Mom’s prize figurines on a wii backswing.” 

Gavin made an inhuman noise and held his hands up defensively against the sudden glares that were shot his way, “hey! with a son like you I thought she’d be more careful!” 

Geoff made to leap forward, his shoulder hunched like an alley cat but he was stopped mid-spring as Ryan wrapped an arms around his waist.

“He’s gonna give you another concussion if you don’t cut that out, Gav,” the boy laughed as he tugged Geoff backwards, “I’m surprised you even have a house still.” 

Geoff landed in a crumpled heap in Ryan’s lap, pouting childishly as Ryan petted his matted hair like he was some kind of house cat. He didn’t object to the treatment, just grumbled in Gavin’s general direction. Seemingly unaffected by the comment, Gavin shrugged. 

“Mama Ramsey loves me, she wouldn’t kick me out.” 

Geoff scoffed and folded his arms across his chest, which didn’t look even slightly comfortable while his back was curved around Ryan, “either way, no more game nights at _casa de Geovin_.” 

Disappointed, Michael looked up to Jack hopefully. The boy took his hands off Ray’s and sat back with his legs extended in front of him. 

“TV’s still broken,” he shrugged, “that’s on you too, Gavin.” 

This time Gavin actually had the decency to look slightly guilty. 

“Ray’s TV is fine though right?” Michael asked, feeling the loss of the youngest’s hands on his as he pulled away. 

“It’s been at my house for like a month,” Ray protested, fixing Michael with a stern stare. 

“You _do_ have a fifty two inch flat screen,” Michael pointed out slyly, hoping to convince the others to drop the notion. 

Gavin sighed wistfully, “that fucking TV, man.”

Ray kicked out, his shoe coming into rough contact with Gavin’s knee, “Okay, stop jizzing over my sony!” After a second, he added in a pleading tone, “Come on Michael, just one night.”

Michael looked down, feeling five sets of eyes watching him. They stares burned the top of his head and his brain weighed up pro’s and con’s. He did want to keep them happy, they were his best friends after all, and being with them was a whole new experience entirely. They might meet his mom, yes, but it was more embarrassment over that woman rather than fear, and they might just understand. Jack’s parents were pretty strict too. 

What could it really hurt? 

“I’ll ask,” he said finally, “I’ll let you know.” 

“That’s my boy,” Geoff beamed, finally sitting up from Ryan’s lap. 

_My boy_ , fuck if Michael couldn’t stop himself blushing a little. 

\---

Approaching his mother about the subject turned out to be a lot easier than he was expecting. 

That evening he leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, palms sweating as he ran over the question in his head. 

‘Can I have friends over on Friday?’ he would ask. 

_What friends? Where did you meet them? Boys or girls? what will you be doing? Girls don’t play video games, don’t let them encourage you. Let me meet them, I’ll set them straight._

Was it even worth it? 

Before he could think about pretending he had never been there, turning around and just telling the guys it was a no, his Mom saw him. 

“Sam!” he glanced up, shame poking at the back of his head for answering to the name. 

Running a hair brush through her straggly, dark hair, she strode past him into the lounge, “I’ve got a date friday,” she announced proudly, “don’t wait up for me.”

It wouldn’t be the first time she had stayed out all night with a guy and, while Michael would normally feel annoyed, today he felt nothing but relief.

“That’s great, Mom,” he said, shamefully speaking in the highest - most feminine - voice he could just to keep her sweet; deciding to try pushing his luck he added, “can i get a pizza in or something then?” 

Riding on the high of her plans, his Mom nodded, waving a hand wistfully, “take a twenty from my purse, don’t spend it on anything until then.” 

As he took the money, she had already moved on to another room, humming happily. He smiled, but not for her, for the sole reason of being able to keep his friends happy. 

\---

Ray was late for first period on Wednesday. He came dashing in seconds before nine and fell into his seat as the professor glared. 

“Late again, Narvaez.” 

He grinned charmingly, “hey at least I showed up,” brushing her off, he smiled at Michael in greeting. 

Shaking his head affectionately, Michael scribbled a note onto the corner of his notebook. With a quick glance in the teacher's direction to check she wasn’t looking, he tore the corner out and slid it across the desk towards Ray. 

He watched as Ray skimmed it over and his eyes lit up, a thumbs up in his direction set of a flutter in Michael’s stomach. 

_You can come over Friday, but not until seven._

\---

As Friday afternoon rolled around, Michael found himself meeting up with everyone outside the school gates. No one had anything but their school bags as opposed to a normal game night where they all showed up fully suited out for a night over, bags stuffed with candy and spare sheets. Michael wasn’t taking the risk that his Mom wouldn’t wander in at 2am, possibly with a male ‘companion’ so, unfortunately, he’d had to put his foot down on the subject of not letting them stay over. He felt a little bad for being a spoil sport, but nobody complained and he was grateful for that. 

The six of them stopped over at the bowling alley on the way back to Michael’s. It had a built in arcade with DDR and a couple of FPS consoles to keep the boys busy until six thirty; at which time, Michael figured, they would have given his Mom enough time to get out of the house to a safe distance before they took over the house. 

Her date was at six, she’d be long gone by seven. 

They’d been to the arcade before, after school and on weekends, and were easily able to find three hours of stuff to do; between gaming and spending the twenty from Michael’s mom on junk food they could easily spend the whole night there. 

“And that’s game,” Ray announced, laughing at Gavin as the Brit fell to his knees in mock despair, “again,” he added smugly. 

“Ray why,” Gavin mourned, tossing the wired-up gun onto the counter as he watched red coat his side of the screen. 

Geoff snorted, “You took Ray on in a sniper game, not sure what you were expecting.” 

“Fair point,” the Brit groaned, banging his head once on the side of the console before allowing Michael to help him to his feet. 

“We better go,” he said, giggling at the boys antics. 

His house was on the other side of town to the school and most of the other’s houses. It was a rougher area of Austin, filled with half burnt out homes and a crack den or two. At first, Michael had been ashamed of the area, embarrassed to tell the others where he came from. Then he learnt that Jack lived in a trailer home on an industrial estate, and Ryan had a one bedroom apartment where he slept in the seven by seven office space, and no one felt any shame towards them. 

“It’s not where you live, it’s who you are,” everyone else had laughed at Jack’s attempt at wise words, but it had settled home with Michael and set his mind at ease. 

He still gave the house a once over before leaving for school that morning, though. Cigarette butts and empty wine bottles weren’t his prefered aesthetic for having company over. 

He’d done everything in his power to make the house as perfect as the dump could possibly be, as long as his mother hadn’t turned into a whirlwind while he’d been at school, they should be safe. At the end of the day, any prep work he could have done would be good enough because, at the very least, his mother wouldn’t be there. 

But she was. 

TV blaring, she sat on the couch, a wine glass in her hand and a glass bottle laying empty on the floor. Michael cringed, stuck halfway between turning everyone around and ushering them back out before his Mother saw him, and trying to sneak them upstairs - again without her seeing them. 

Luck _really_ wasn’t on Michael’s side today. 

At the sound of the door opening, “Oh, Samantha _darling,_ you’re here,” she slurred. 

Wincing at the use of his birth name, Michael felt his cheeks heat up, “Mom, I thought you were going out tonight,” he said bitingly. 

“The asshole didn’t show,” she hissed, staggering up to a stand, wine sloshing over the edge of the glass splashed to the pale carpet, staining the fabric blood red. It joined a handful of stains just like it, “can you believe it?” 

“Did you show up like that?” he asked in a sharp voice, gesturing to her general posture and she snarled.

Her eyes narrowed, “don’t start that shit with me, missy, you know better,” she said, a long, bony finger pointed in his direction.

“Mom, please, I have company,” he pleaded quietly, flicking his eyes towards the other but not daring to look any of them in the eye. This is exactly what he had wanted to avoid. 

She peered uneasily at the doorway behind Michael, eyes widening as if she hadn’t seen the five boys stood there. She probably hadn’t, her vision was tunnelled when she was drunk. 

A dramatic gasp left her lips and she rushed to smooth down the tangles in her hair, only managing to make more of a mess of the dark locks. 

“Oh, I don’t understand you sometimes Samantha,” whatever was left in the glass dripped to the floor as she staggered forward, “first you tell me that _in your heart_ you’re a boy and now you’re bringing this...this gangbang into my house!” The sarcasm dripped from her lips, cruel and bitter. 

“That’s not fair, they’re my friends,” Michael said briskly, not daring to take his eyes away from her to see the looks on his friends faces. There was no point trying to explain to her in this state, he wasn’t even sure _she_ knew exactly what she was saying. 

Whatever the woman had taken from Michael’s words - because he was sure she hadn’t heard them at all - made her expression morph into one of somewhat disappointment and she sighed. 

“Oh Samantha-”

Unable to keep his temper under control, Michael snapped,“Stop calling me that!” he shrieked, not caring that the pitch of his voice shot up a couple of ranges, “my name is Michael!” 

To his, and everyone’s surprise, his mother surged forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him violently, her eyes wild with pupils the size of pinpricks. 

“You stop with that nonsense right now!” 

A pair of hands yanked him backwards, at the same time as a voice yelled sharply from his left.

“Hey! leave him alone, Lady!” It was Geoff, coming to his rescue as Ryan’s hands were planted firmly on his waist, squeezing supportively. 

“Him? _Him?!_ ” she growled but took a step back, her fingers loosening from their bruising grip on Michael’s shoulders, “ _she_ is my fucking daughter.”

“With all due respect-” poor, lovely Jack, always the diplomat; but Michael knew his Mother well enough to know that she wasn’t about to listen to anyone with that amount of alcohol coursing through her veins.

Sure enough, she turned on the boy, practically spitting on his glasses, “I don’t have to take this from children, get out of my house.” 

“Mom-”

“Get out!” she shrieked. 

“Come on Michael,” Geoff said, taking his hand and starting to steer him away from the enraged woman but her bony hand shot out and grabbed his arm, her sharp nails digging in the bare flesh so harshly that Michael had no doubts there would be blood leaking out from underneath them any second.

With a sharp tug, he found himself away from his boys and hidden behind his mother. 

“No, Samantha is staying right here,” she snapped. Like a feral cat she stood her ground, practically hissing as the boys tried to approach her prey. Fuck, she had never been this angry before. 

“Go,” he said bluntly, looking Geoff directly in the eye even as the boy started forward to reach for him. 

He knew that things were only going to get worse if they stayed, hell things might get worse if they left but at least they would be out of the firing range. Quickly scanning their faces he saw the mixture of different emotions displayed. 

Ryan and Geoff looked pissed, the kind of pissed that made Michael think they might hit something - or someone - in their rage. Both had their fists clenched tightly at their sides, jaws set, and eyes narrow. Jack, oh _Jack_ , still looked like he was prepared to stay calm, as if there were enough words in the world to allow him to settle the dispute with hugs and smiles. Poor, naive Jack. 

Neither Ray nor Gavin looked like they knew how to handle the situation. Michael felt sorry for them, they were kind boys, sneaky as fuck and disruptive when they wanted to be, but they had gentle hearts. None of them deserved this. 

“Go home guys,” Michael repeated as Geoff opened his mouth to argue, “I’ll text you later.”

“Michael-” Ray said quietly.

A hand on his chest nudged him backwards and he looked up into the cold, steely eyes of his mother. Her rage seemed to have pushed back the drunkenness for now, and now she just looked all too ready for a fight. 

“Go to the kitchen, Samantha,” she whispered coldly and Michael found his legs moving before his brain could catch up. 

He didn't hear any further speaking, but at least that meant his mom was done yelling. The front door closed with a thud and Michael dropped down onto one of the stools at the kitchen table, his head in his hands.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he muttered as she wandered into the kitchen and reached into the cabinet, pulling out another, unopened, bottle of red. 

Sighing, she poured herself another glass to drown away the confrontation, "I've told you, you need to start spending time with more girls your own age, work out this _issue_ you have." 

Her words were still slurring and that only served to fuel the fire inside Michael. 

“It’s not an issue, _i’m_ not an _issue,_ this is _who i am._ ” He stood from the table, both hands placed flat against the wood. 

“You know, I blame your father for this behavior,” she continued, unperturbed, “it was those damn video games and all that time you spent on jobs with him.” 

“It’s not about that-” Michael started; wanting to argue that, no, having a Dad who’s a plumber doesn’t make someone transgender. She quickly interrupted, her expression glazed over, he knew she wasn’t even listening anymore. 

“I told him- Jerry, I told him, we gotta keep her dancing, you give her something to focus on, you keep her on the straight and narrow,” 

Feeling brave, Michael grunted, “then I would have been a male dancer.”

She shook her head, the tight bun her hair had been in shaking loose, straggles of dark hair fell around her face making her look even more of a mess than she already did, “no, no no, then you would have been my lovely little girl.” 

Stepping out from behind the table, he kicked the stool out “Why aren’t you _listening to me_?” he broke in, loud enough to stop his mother’s rambling. 

Shrugging, she took another swig of her drink, "When you start saying things worth listening to, then i’ll be all ears.” 

He bristled, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up to attention. His anger was bubbling up to the surface, the famous Jones rage that he’d not even come close to missing out on, engrained in his personality. 

"Oh Samantha don't look at me like that, you know I'm only doing what's best for you." 

Michael snarled, fixing his Mother with the strongest glare he could manage, “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

She was on him in an instant, in his face so fast he almost fell over the stool by his legs as he took a step back in shock, “don’t you _dare_ speak to me that way, I am your mother,” she hissed; the glass in her hand came into contact with the table with too much force, shattering and scattering glistening glass across the surface mixed with blood red. 

Anger fueled Michael on, “Yeah? Well start fucking acting like it then!” He wasn’t aware of his words until they tumbled out of his mouth, but they came out strong and loud. 

The slap that collided with his face sent him careening to the floor. 

\---

He was sure that frost was building up in crusty layers on the front of his hair. The air was bitterly cold, and he’d been walking for a _while._

Ray’s house was the farthest from his own home - could he really even call it that? - but it was the only one Michael had been to enough times to remember the way. 

Much like Michael’s, Ray’s house stood tall against the horizon, just on the other side of town. Michael remembered being surprised when he first saw the upper-class residence of his scruffy friend. The street was like something straight out of a movie from the 50’s with white picket fences and intricately cut hedges, the houses were all extremely similar in design and it had given Michael a sense of unease about the whole thing. 

“Don’t worry there’s nothing _stepford_ about this place,” Michael recalled Ray commenting as Ryan’s car pulled into the neighborhood, “I mean, they’re all assholes. But they’re not robot assholes.” 

One of many things which made Ray one of Michael’s favorite people. 

The street was different now, cold and dark with frost on the ground making the pavement slippery under his feet. Even with his hood pulled down over his face, he couldn’t feel his face; his nose was totally numb, and he felt like every breath he drew in was freezing inside his lungs. With his legs as cold and stiff as they were he was surprised that he could still stand, let alone keep walking, and if he tried to unfold his arms from where he had them wrapped around his waist, they probably wouldn’t move. 

As Ray’s house came into view, Michael allowed himself a stiff smile. Out of all the houses in the street, Ray’s looked the most inviting; every light in the house was on bright, glaring out into the darkness, and the wrought iron gates which led to the driveway were ajar just enough to allow Michael to get through without any creaking noises to alert his surroundings. 

The driveway was clear mainly, save for Geoff’s signature green Jeep. It was old and beaten up, with scratches down both sides and a crack in the right wing mirror, but it was Geoff’s pride and joy since it meant he could get where he needed to go whenever he wanted. It only have five seats, though, and the first time they had taken to the vehicle all together with Michael in tow, they had paused before getting in. It had almost been awkward, and Michael had very nearly turned around and told them he would make his own way; but then Ray jumped into the back and yanked a squealing Gavin onto his lap, patting the seat beside him. It wa with smiles all around that Michael settled into the middle, laughing quietly at their antics. 

That had been another thing that had taken Michael by surprise. The moment he found out that, while being best friends, the five boys were also in a relationship; all of them. Together. 

It hadn’t shocked Michael as much as he may have thought. He’d never heard of polyamory before the day Jack shrugged and told him they were dating, and if he were anyone else he may have been more than just slightly taken aback - and he knew plenty who would be disgusted - but he saw the way they were together, it didn’t change anything that they sometimes leaned in for cheek kisses. Or that one time he walked in on a full out three-way make out session, blushed, and walked away only to be tracked down a minute or so later by a, similarly red faced, Geoff. 

Geoff’s house was almost the central point between Michael and Ray, they must have picked up his car on the way. No doubt they moved Game Night to Ray’s after the farce at Michael’s place. 

His fingers reached for the doorbell before he paused. Would it be okay that he came here? Sure they had become close friends since Michael had arrived, but it had only been a couple of months; were they close enough for Michael to count on this much? His mother must have freaked them out, maybe they wouldn’t want him…

He cut himself off sharply. Even if they didn’t expect him, he had to go somewhere, and he was starting to lose feeling in his hands. 

It took less than thirty seconds for Ray to appear at the door once the bell had been pressed. He opened the door wide, panting slightly - they always joked that Ray couldn’t walk ten steps without needing a water break - and a look on his face which told Michael he may have already guessed - or hoped - it would be him.

“Michael,” he breathed, a warm blast of air drifting over Michael’s skin and he shivered. 

“S-she kicked m-me out.” 

Ray’s eyes widened, “Fuck! Are you serious? Shit!” Michael regarded him over his glasses, his head still ducked down to protect himself from the cold night. 

Letting out a swift breath, Ray leaned against the doorframe and blinked owlishly, “Michael, shit, I mean I thought-” 

Not wanting to get into it right there on the doorstep, and feeling embarrassingly close to tears with warmth and kindness only a foot away, Michael interrupted him, “C-can I come in?” 

Ray perked to attention, “Jesus, yes of course, sorry!” his hand came out to wrap around Michael’s arm and he cringed at the icy chill of the fabric. No doubt the skin underneath that near as bad. 

"Did you walk all the way across town? It's like 20 degrees!" 

Michael nodded, “I can’t drive.” 

“What about-” he paused. He’d been about to say ‘what about your Dad’ but that seemed like a stupid question now. Just as he never spoke about his Mom, Michael had never once mentioned a father figure; either he, too, was a bully, or he wasn’t around. Either way he rephrased himself, “You should have called Geoff,”

“M-my phone’s still at h-” he cut himself off, feeling the break in his voice coming with that one single word. 

He didn’t see the pitying look that Ray shot his way, he didn’t want to. Even with the artificial heat in the house, Michael still felt chilled to the bone and kept his hood pulled up over his head. With his head dipped low, he let Ray’s hand on his back guide him through the house, and up to the second floor. 

As expected, everyone was there. Though whether Game Night was on, that was in question. Ray’s TV was black screened, and the consoles still tucked away. The boys were spread out across Ray’s bedroom, clearly in the middle of a discussion when Michael entered. 

“Michael!” Gavin yelped, leaping up from the bed. He landed his full weight against the frozen boy and nearly sent them both toppling to the floor, “what are you…?”

“His mom kicked him out.” Ray answered for him, voice steely and, if Michael had eyes in the back of his head, he would have seen the anger that crossed his face. 

“You’re freezing,” Gavin commented at the same time as the other three yelled, “What?!” 

“I knew we shouldn’t have left you alone,” Geoff tutted as Ryan crossed to Ray’s dresser and dug around in the draws. 

Michael didn’t get any chance to reply - he didn’t know what to say anyway - as Ryan produced a thick hoodie with a jubilant cry and threw it in Michael’s direction. He hadn’t realised that the frost in the air had dampened his own hoodie, and that was probably why he wasn’t fully managing to draw in the heat from the house. 

His legs were starting to ache now that they were starting to warm up, heat flooding his extremities and even more once he’d taken off his damp hoodie and pulled down the hem of his shirt so that it was no longer covering his mouth. 

Before he could pull Ray’s top on, a collection of gasps shot across the room and he paused, frowning. They were definitely looking at him, but...

Geoff strode forward and took his chin in one hand, tilting his head gently to the side. 

“She did this?” he asked tightly, lips pursed. 

_This?_ Michael scrunched up his face in confusion and pulled away from Geoff’s hands. Staggering on numb, weak legs, he honed in on the full length mirror which stood to the side of the walk-in closet. 

The skin where his Mom’s hand had met his cheek had pinked up nicely, darkening into a developing bruise in the centre. He hadn’t noticed between leaving the house and this moment, but his nose had been bleeding too; crusted over blood adorned his right nostril and flecks of red had splattered around his lips and cheek. A thick, weeping welt on the other side told him he’d probably hit his head when he fell but he couldn’t recall the moment at all. All he remembered was staggering to his feet as his Mom yelled at him to “get the fuck out!”

A chill ran through him despite the warmth of the house.

“I didn’t realise…” he whispered, his fingers reaching up to ghost over the welt, cringing when his fingers came back red, “it was an accident,” his words were muffled as he tugged Ray’s hoodie over his head. 

Geoff frowned, “Was it?”

“Of course it-” the words hung on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to them, “she was angry.” 

“Has she done this before?” He figured he must have the look of a frightened animals in his eyes because Ryan was speaking so softly, so cautiously, almost like he was expecting Michael to spook and bolt. 

Michael knew what they were saying, and he suddenly felt like doing just that.

“I’m not being abused,” he said plainly, though they looked at him like he was a wounded puppy and it was clear that they didn’t believe him. But he wasn’t, she was borderline neglectful but abusive? No, that just wasn’t right.

“I’m not,” he insisted, "she's more sensitive when she's been drinking, I pushed her too far." 

Ray stepped forward, speaking in a hushed tone, "dude you shouldn't be justifying why your mom hit you," he was staring at the sluggishly bleeding cut. 

Feeling his heart start to hammer against his chest, Michael cringed, "It was just a slap, this must have happened when I fell,” he explained, totally willing to let the interrogation die. 

Luckily, Jack’s intuition told him to give Michael’s a break, “guys,” he said firmly, “let him breathe, we can talk about this later.” 

“This needs looking at,” Geoff said as his way of showing he was going to let it rest for a little while. His fingers gently probed the bruise on Michael’s cheek before brushing over the gash on his forehead, which continued to drip blood down his face. 

“Just stick a bandaid on it,” Michael said with a shrug. As he warmed up, the numbness in his face wore off and the wounds were beginning to sting but he wasn’t weak, he could take more than that. 

Geoff nudged him gently towards Jack.

“Jack, you know first aid, what should we do?”

“I took like two days of it as a freshman, I don’t think that counts as _knowing_ first aid,” Jack said dismissively, but that didn’t stop him from leading Michael to the bed to sit down as he knelt in front of him. 

“When you fell, did you black out?” he held the lads head steady, feeling the minute shake that Michael gave. 

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t know? that doesn’t sound good,” Gavin commented cautiously, worry evident on his face. 

“It’s not as bad as you think,” Jack replied softly, keeping Michael from drawing too much from the Brit’s words, “you might have a light concussion,” he said gently. 

“Any headache or nausea?” Michael thought about it. 

“No puking, but I guess it hurts a bit now I can feel my face again,” Jack seemed satisfied with the answer and sat back on his heels. 

“You’ll live,” he concluded with a smile, “if you start feeling bad though, you tell us, promise?” 

Michael nodded and leaned back to flop on the bed. The sheets were soft under his skin, much softer than his own bed, and it felt heavenly to touch. 

“Dizzy?” Ray asked, sitting down beside him. 

Shaking his head, Michael closed his eyes, “just tired,” he whispered. 

“I’m gonna grab the first aid kit, stop him bleeding on your bed, Ray.” Ryan muttered above them, already leaving the room; with Gavin around, they all knew where to find medical supplies no matter where they were. 

Michael felt Ray lay down next to him and opened his eyes, smiling softly at his friend. 

“Sorry tonight went to shit,” he whispered, “I didn’t mean to ruin game night.” 

Ray shuffled onto his side, propping his elbow up and resting his head on his palm. 

“It’s not your fault, don’t blame yourself.”

“Yeah, it’s not your fault your mum’s a bitch,” Gavin interjected and Ray felt Michel stiffen beside him. 

“Gav,” he warned, fixing the Brit with a steely glare. 

“What? too soon?” Michael didn’t get the chance to reply as, before he could even open his mouth, Ryan came back through the door, a green canvas bag the size of a briefcase in his hands. 

“Your parents upgraded?” he asked, raising one eyebrow as he dumped the bag on the floor by Jack’s feet. 

Jack unzipped the bag, flipping the top up to reveal a perfectly stocked first aid kit that could rival a paramedics equipment. Bandages and gauze pads in a variety of shapes and sizes were clipped to the top while the base was filled to the brim with neatly stacked bandaid boxes 

Ray shot Gavin a look, “that’s for your benefit Gavvy, Mom bought it after you brained yourself playing WII tennis,” Jack held up a box of bandaids, the packaging printed with images of waluigi, a humoured smile on his lips, “and maybe I got to pick some of the stuff,” Ray added with no hint of shame over his purchase. 

Geoff snorted, “Your mom ran off with the stock of an ambulance to protect Gavin?” Ray nodded and Geoff rolled to the side, clutching his side.

“You are fucking dangerous, buddy,” Geoff snickered, tugging Gavin across to him. A hand ruffled through the messy blonde hair, and he placed an affectionate kiss to the crown of the lads head. 

“Sit up,” Jack instructed, shaking his head at his boyfriends antics. 

Michael did so, pulling himself up with a groan and missing the softness against his back. At least he was starting to warm up now, Ray’s clothes doing wonders for the chill. 

With a tug on his ankle and wrist, Jack encouraged him down so that he could sit on the floor, his back against the bed frame. Jack tore open one of the anti-bac wipes and gently ran it down the left side of Michael’s face, picking up the blood that had trickled down from the gash on his forehead; he followed that up by dabbing at the boys bleeding nostril, the crusty blood falling away in flakes. 

“I don’t think the cut needs stitches,” Jack mused, looking to Ryan for guidance, “what do you think?” 

Ryan studied the split skin carefully, “You got butterfly bandages in that sack of yours?” he asked Ray. 

“I don’t know what those are,” the youngest admitted in the same second as Jack pulled a sheet free of the bag, "apparently we do," he finished slowly. 

"Those should be okay," Ryan shrugged, "but everything I know about med stuff is from TV." 

“My mate cracked his skull open once, said they stuck it together with superglue or something,” Gavin supplied, though he wasn’t looking at the wound, instead keeping his gaze averted to stop him from gagging. 

“No way,” Michael fired back, “you’re not putting fucking _glue_ anywhere near my face.” 

“No ones doing anything with glue,” Jack promised.

Gavin shrugged, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor beside the bed mumbling, “was just trying to help.”

Ray patted him on the shoulder gently, “Help more helpfully, Gav.” 

Disregarding everyone else, Jack tore open a clean wipe and held it hesitantly in his hands. 

"This bit hurts," he informed Michael, gesturing to the wound and the boy instantly knew what was coming. 

He gulped, already cringing at the prospect of the stinging pain, "just do it." 

He gave a whimper with the first swipe of antiseptic on his brow. The second came easier, with soft apologies as Jack meticulously cleaned out the open skin. 

“What do we do next?” Ray asked, both distracting Michael and himself; using the time to bring the conversation back around to the elephant in the room. 

The others looked relieved that Ray had thought of it first. 

Michael squirmed at the next swipe of the wipe, “Do you think your parents would mind?” after a nervous beat- he added, “If I stayed here for a couple of days.”

With no hesitation, Ray nodded “Dude, you can stay here as long as you need, we have the room.” 

Michael shook his head quickly, “I only need a day or two, just enough for her to sober up and get her shit together," he said insistently. 

He was faced with five looks of shock before Ryan spoke, “you’re not telling me you plan on going back there?”

“Guys, I live there, of course I’m going back,” Michael said with a sigh, unable to keep the pang of pain out of his voice.

Geoff stared at him, his eyebrows knitted together, “She kicked you out!” he objected, Michael looked at him, unblinking.

“Yeah, like she’s done twenty times before," he said with a shrug, wincing as Jack pinched the edges of his wound together and sealed the middle with the first butterfly bandage, “It’s nothing new.” 

Jack looked disappointed while sealing the wound twice more, one either side and appraised his own work, “That doesn’t make me feel much better," he muttered sadly. 

Michael pulled back, his eyes watering and for a second Jack thought he would burst into tears. He was prepared for that, he would have preferred that to the way the boy shuffled away, isolating himself from everyone. 

“It doesn’t have to," Michaels tone left no room for discussion and he snatched up a medium sized gauze pad from the case. 

"Look," he began, seeing the unsure and concerned faces of his friends, “I know it freaked you out and I’m sorry you got dragged into it, but that’s just how we are, she doesn’t like this,” with the last words he gestured to himself. To his torso where the binder sat heavy across his chest, to his shirt hair and boyish clothes, to his general demeanor that screamed male but never quite in the right pitch. 

“I was always her little girl, but I can’t give her that anymore,” he continued, barely looking anyone in the eye as he tore of a strip of tape and placed it neatly across the top of the gauze. The little left over the edge adhered to his forehead, catching a few hairs in the process as he covered the strips holding his skin together. 

It was a shoddy job and the pad would end up stuck to Ray’s pillow come the morning, but for now it was something to keep his hands busy. 

When his eyes flicked upwards, the room being in silence for a little too long, he saw them all staring. Not rudely, not even pitying, just a tense exchange of glances from five boys way out of their depths. 

“I-” Geoff began once he figured it was safe, “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, and Michael’s eyes softened. 

Michael shrugged minutely, his fingers moving from the gauze, “I don’t think you’re meant to.”


End file.
